


Last Sprout of Spring

by Ramzes



Series: Dragon Kings Without Beasts [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:39:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramzes/pseuds/Ramzes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slightly AU. At meeting the King of the Seven Kingdoms, Dunk once again feels the immense guilt of the knowledge that because of him, the Seven Kingdoms have lost their assured hope and are now left with this old, uninspiring, utterly forgettable man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Disappointed

"They're here! They came!"

Excitement made the boy's voice squeaky. Unfortunately, it was loud enough to attract notice. A few heads turned in their direction and Dunk went still, fervently hoping that his squire's joy would be taken as a part of the same fascination that held the courtyard in fervent expectation. In their five months together, no one had ever seen Egg for what he was, so why should they start now? Everyone, from Lord Brookstone to the pot boys, was staring wide-eyed at the guards and retainers filling the bailey of Blue Stream. The three-headed dragon adorning the magnificent gilded litter with the six of the finest horses Dunk had even seen seemed to breathe and roar in the sunset, so alive that somewhere near, a small child cried out in fear. The four wagons accompanying the litter were filled to the brim. Dunk had never seen such wealth.

Egg, though, seemed unimpressed. Dunk wondered whether he was simply eager to have a look at his royal grandfather, or the entourage and carts were truly signs of a small party. Small!

His thoughts of the size of the train immediately disappeared when he spotted the man riding behind the litter. Prince Maekar was the last person he'd like to meet right now. Just last night, Egg had pouted over the fleas in their pallets and practically salivated over the venison that was most emphatically not served beneath the salt. What if the boy decided that the call of princely life was too strong? Dunk had given him a clout in the ear just a few hours ago… By the Seven, he'd miss the little imp. But he should have known better than keeping rubbing shoulders with princes. In his own way, Egg was every bit as dangerous as Aerion.

"He saw us!" Egg whispered excitedly, leaning down from the edge of the fence Dunk had placed him on.

Dunk wasn't sure about that. He had been watching Maekar very carefully – they were close enough to the arriving party – and he hadn't seen him settling his eyes on anything. But he was not about to argue, especially now when the curtains of the litter were now parting.

Till the end of his life, he wouldn't forget how amazed he was that day. How disappointed. He had expected someone as easily distinguishable and attention-catching as Maekar, Aerion, and Egg – when he was dressed nicely. Daeron the Good was said to be possessed of the Valyrian looks and it was true. The thing was, even with them, he looked quite ordinary, invisible. Baelor Breakspear had not been instantly recognizable as Targaryen but he had been a man of presence nonetheless. Daeron had none. Years hadn't been kind to him. He had lost all vestiges of vigour he once might have had, all the drive that must have sustained him through the years he had worked tirelessly to repair what Aegon the Unworthy had squandered away so thoughtlessly. And where were the regalia? Even his cloak was a simple one. Black, with no embroidery. He was not tall. He was not impressive. A man one could easily push out of their way into a crowd without even thinking to harm him because no one would give him a second thought.

Who could admire this aging man with tired eyes who shuffled sideways and made no further movement?

A moment later, a second figure emerged from the litter. Maekar reached out, caught her by the waist and placed her on the pavement. Dunk's eyes widened. From this close, he could see the fine quality of her gown, the silver threads that the dying sun turned into paths of moonlight against the dark sea of the blue material. The diadem holding her black hair shone like a rainbow. He could barely see the small oval of her face but the tone of her skin was unmistakably dark. Once again, all of a sudden, Baelor Breakspear was here where he belonged, with his family and the entourage, and once again regret pierced Dunk straight in the heart.

"That's Rhae," Egg hissed in his ear. "What is she doing here? And why is she alone? Where is Daella?"

_Do you think I know, boy_ , Dunk wanted to snap. _They're your family, not mine. And you know I have no idea why any of them is here._ All the castle knew was that less than a day ago, raven had announced that His Grace would have a few days of rest here as he returned from… where? This much wasn't disclosed. Blue Stream was teeming with suggestions. And Egg wasn't helping. There were people pressing against them on all sides… Dunk tiptoed to reach his squire's ear. Damnation, the fence looked lower. Had he grown yet _taller_?

"Do shut up," he barked. "Or you'll get…"

"A clout in the ear, I know, I know," the boy finished for him. Dunk swallowed and decided that perhaps he should look for another punishment. The clout in the ear had never made much of an impression but now it was worse. Perhaps having the boy clean his boot every day? The _inside_ of his boots?

The little princess looked around – and her eyes went straight to them. Dunk moved his shoulder to hide Egg from view but it was too late already. She said something and was about to point. Her grandfather took her hand, very gently, and murmured something. She nodded.

Daeron Targaryen's eyes took the entire bailey in a single sweeping look. Duncan felt it pass straight over him, not holding for a moment longer to check whether Rhae was telling the truth and Aegon was truly there. Maekar didn't even bother with a look. "Aren't you going to go inside already?" he asked instead and Dunk thought that there was a touch of concern in his gruff voice. As the newcomers made their way to the castle door, he realized why this was and felt ashamed for his graceless thoughts about Daeron. They went so close past him, the King holding his granddaughter by the hand that he could see their faces clearly. Egg's fingers dug in Dunk's shoulder painfully. Now the big knight saw that Daeron was not only tired but ill – and perhaps the girl was as well. They were both very pale, she so frail that every whiff of the wind could carry her away, he almost unable to move his head – he seemed to suffer from severe stiffness in his neck and shoulders.

"He's grown so old," Egg murmured, crestfallen, and while taking him down from the fence, Dunk once again felt the immense guilt of the knowledge that because of him, the Seven Kingdoms had lost their assured hope and were left with this old, uninspiring, utterly forgettable man.

 


	2. Midnight Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, melrilielen and Riana1, for commenting!

"That's disgusting," Egg muttered and almost made a face. "What is it anyway?"

Dunk had no idea what the meat before them was but he knew what _it_ was next to him: a sulky prince. Now he was a little sorry that squires had been admitted in the great hall since his family's presence seemed to intensify the boy's brooding mood. On the other hand, he'd rather have Egg here where he could keep him on a tight leash. Left to his own devices, the boy would surely give cause for suspicions – he was staring at the high table so obviously – convinced that he was not.

"That's your meal for tonight," Dunk snapped. "At worst, it's been running around barking a few hours ago. Shut up and _eat_."

With some satisfaction, he saw that this little tidbit of information seemed to have curbed His Grace's appetite. Good! The boy deserved it because of the last few days that he had actively been spoiling for Dunk.

"Do you really think it's hound meat?" Egg asked.

Dunk sighed. "No." _More like mongrel._ Hounds were expensive.

Egg looked happier but he still wouldn't reach for his plate.

Dunk bit another bite of the stale bread. He had to admit that the boy had the right of it. They had rarely been fed worse. It was a good thing that their employment with Lord Brookstone was coming to an end. They still intended to visit Dorne. If they were still them, that was it. When Egg became this querulous, Dunk had half a mind to tie him to Chestnut and deliver him to Summerhall in person! Still, with the option of actually losing the boy suddenly looming so very near, he found out that the mongrel meat tasted even worse than a moment ago.

Once again, Egg looked at the high table. Dunk followed. Princess Rhae was talking animatedly, smiling, but she wasn't looking at them. In fact, no one was. Why would the highborn stoop to watching the hall beneath them closely? They certainly had more important matters to occupy themselves with. Dunk wondered whether the girl had even been believed when saying that her brother was here.

"Don't stare like this," he said. "That's the King over there, not a beast in a menagerie for you to gawk at."

"Well," Egg said, "don't _you_ stare."

But since everyone was, that little episode went unnoticed.

* * *

"Strange," Egg noticed as they came near the abandoned cowshed they used as their home a little after supper had ended.

"What?" Dunk asked. True to Ser Arlan's advice, he had engulfed a few copper cups of the bad wine they had been offered. Bad but in huge quantities. And strong enough to have him sway on his feet a little.

"There's a light inside."

Dunk blinked and tried to fix the small wooden building better. Damn it, the boy was right. Escaping through the cracks between the planks, there was something that was undoubtedly a candle. Or a torch. In either case, something that Dunk hadn't left burning. He turned to his squire and glared. "Have you started wasting our candles, boy? It isn't the Red Keep here, you know!"

But of course, Egg hadn't left a candle burning. Why would he? They had left the shed in broad daylight.

"Wait!" Dunk exclaimed but the boy was already throwing the door wide open. Dunk seized him and pushed him behind himself.

The man inside bowed respectfully. "His Grace wishes to see you, my prince," he said in voice betraying no surprise at all.

Dunk slammed the door shut before a random guest having ventured out to clear his head or relieve himself spotted the strange scene.

"I told you," Egg said complacently. "My father saw us."

In the years to come, Dunk would become better acquainted with the way of royalty to sweep everything with a single glance without anyone noticing that they did. But for now, he only followed the middle-aged men into the castle and up the second floor where they had never ventured, to what was clearly the most luxurious chambers in the entire abode. Fresh rushes gave way to real carpets and he knew they must be very close indeed.

The man opened the last door and there he was – the King, seated comfortably in a high-backed chair with sturdy arms that would give his body some support. Dunk had never sat in anything with arms and thought it must feel weird. But Daeron clearly disagreed since he only moved his hand instead of leaning forward despite the fact that it would be more awkward, focused on the board game he was playing with his granddaughter, seated in a similar chair opposite him. The girl was now simply clad in a white dress, although she had retained the diadem that kept her hair from spilling over the pieces. Her lips were pursed and she was entirely focused on her next move. In the candlelight, Dunk saw that there was indeed something off with her dark skin. Her mouth looked definitely white. Daeron was also very pale and the stiffness in his shoulders and neck only seemed to have grown. He heard the door opening and couldn't move his head, so he turned his whole body, awkwardly, and riveted his eyes on his grandson. His face lit up as he beckoned Egg to come closer.

The boy did and bowed.

"Come closer, Aegon," the King said softly. "Let me see you."

Egg rose, unsure how to proceed now that he wasn't sure just how much of a touch Daeron could tolerate in this state.

"Come here," the King said again and embraced him carefully but with visible pleasure. "By the gods, you look… remarkable," he finished tactfully and touched Egg's bald head – a sight that seemed to amuse him. "I guess lice cry bitter tears when they reach you," he added matter-of-factly and surprised, Dunk laughed. What was that? Sense of humour? In a king?

Daeron gave him a quick look but his attention remained fixed on Egg. "And you're quite dark now. I expect that if you ever visit Dorne, I'll recognize you only because I'll expect you to be brown. That was the case with your father when he was your age anyway." He pushed the boy slightly back to have a better view of him. "You've grown a little already. Are those muscles that I'm seeing?"

Egg grinned and flexed his muscles under the ragged tunic to show how strong he had become.

"Good," Daeron said, smiling. "I want to talk to Ser Duncan now. You can go to Rhae."

Egg did so and the two children went in a corner so they could talk undisturbed. Daeron looked at Dunk and gestured at him to come closer. At the same time, he sat straight in his chair and then Dunk saw it. There it was, after all. Royalty. Authority. Daeron smiled, although there was pain in it that Dunk didn't think was entirely physical. His face warmed up, the harsh lines smoothing somewhat.

"You seem to be taking good care of my grandson, Ser Duncan. No, no," he added impatiently when Dunk tried to kneel, a painful echo of his son Baelor's words a few months ago. "I'm afraid I forgot my manners entirely. You'll forgive me, I hope. After all, I am just an old man who hasn't seen his grandson for a while."

_Oh no, you aren't._

The words came to Dunk's head uninvited and completely unexpected. Had he really thought that the King lacked charm and personality? He had been wrong. Now, close to him, he realized that those were Prince Maekar's eyes scrutinizing him but with Prince Baelor's easy way to make everyone comfortable. It was disconcerting and yet not unpleasantly so. The King's interaction with his grandchildren had somehow humanized him and the warmth in his eyes now did the rest. Yes, Dunk could now see why people would hold true to such a man, even if he was not what he had imagined a king would be like at all.

"I don't know much about manners, my lord," he said. "Your Grace, I mean," he added and felt his cheeks redden. "I mean… I'm sorry."

" _My lord_ would do," Daeron said mildly. "And you have a lifetime to get used to court ceremony. How old are you? Take a seat, take a seat," he added impatiently. "I cannot have you towering you over me like that. I cannot see you…"

Hesitantly, Dunk sat in the chair that had been occupied by a princess. "Seventeen years, I think. I am not a child, my lord," he added, just in case the King thought he could not entrust his grandson's knightly education to someone so young. True, Prince Maekar had let Egg go with him but the King could countermand his son, couldn't he? Where _was_ the Prince anyway?

Daeron laughed softly. "You are to me! Do you know how old I am?"

Dunk wouldn't have replied, even if he could guess.

"When I was your age, I was trying my hand at politics, thinking that I knew better than maesters and sulking."

Curiosity got the better of Dunk. "Sulking, my lord?" he asked before he registered the pain crossing Daeron's features anew.

The King nodded. "Baelor was a newborn then," he said. His voice didn't break at his son's name but he looked aside and paused before continuing, "And I was quite resentful of him. His mother didn't pay attention to me anymore. In fact, no one did – neither my own mother nor my grandfather. Everyone gathered around the squaller." He smiled a little, with a smile that was sad and wistful. "So many years have passed since then, yet it looks like no time to me."

He reached for his cup and motioned at Dunk to pour some wine for himself. Dunk wasn't thirsty but one did not refuse a king.

"How does Aegon fare under your tutelage?" Daeron asked.

How was he to answer? The yellow light of the scented candles revealed to him what the King wanted to hear and since it was what resonated in his own hearth as well, Duncan said it, as simply as he would have addressed Ser Arlan. "He's a good boy and fares well."

"Does he give you any trouble?"

The question shook Dunk to the core. That was the first time someone asked how _he_ felt. It had always been orders from the masters he served, gruff care from Ser Arlan, general disregard from highborn. Baelor Breakspear had shown care about him because of the injustice Dunk was about to suffer. Egg had chosen him. But Daeron the Good was the first one who looked interested in _his_ emotions.

"A little," he managed to say through his clenched throat. "Nothing too bad."

Daeron looked pleased but before he could ask more, the little Princess came near, craning her head and stepping back, so her eyes could travel all the way to Dunk's face. Now he saw that despite her olive complexion, the eyes he had thought as dark as Baelor's were, in fact, deep, almost hidden violet twinkling with interest. "You're so big!" she exclaimed. "I don't think I've ever seen someone as big as you."

 _Dunk the Lunk_. But from this girl, the comment about his size didn't sound insulting at all. It sounded pleasing. She looked genuinely fascinated.

Behind her, Egg rolled his eyes.

"Rhae," the King said mildly. "Where are your manners?"

But she was too excited to stop and find them. "Do the two of you really sleep in a cowshed?" she asked breathlessly. "Egg says you do. Can I see it? Are there cows inside?"

"Of course there aren't," Egg said, exasperated but she was on a roll.

"Tonight, I saw you in the great hall. I think you were the most impressive knight there, even with those one close by," she added, giving her brother a mocking look. "Do you want to sit on the dais with us tomorrow? Are you going to tell me more about sleeping under the stars?"

Speaking so rapidly and for so long finally led to a cough. She brought out a piece of true silk and wiped her lips.

Dunk's eyes went to the King's face which had gone grey again, with something like despair encroaching. A look at Rhae's face revealed what had been hidden until now. Her eyes had no white – it was stained with yellow. The girl was suffering the consumption. The Yellow Handmaiden, it was called, for every so often she brought those she struck at the Stranger's feet. Once again, Daeron looked old and broken, looking unhappily at the scarlet spots that now stained the silk. But now Dunk knew that he would never forget him. And never think him uninspiring again.


	3. Dark Wings, Dark Words

"Now, now," the King said kindly. "Leave poor Ser Duncan alone, Rhae. I doubt he's used to being attacked like this."

"Attacked!" the girl exclaimed indignantly. Dunk noticed how the King reached casually for the bloodstained silk and pushed it to one side where Rhae would not look at it. "I am not a knight with a sword!"

No, but she was even more dangerous. Dunk wasn't used to be looked at with such adoration. The Seven only knew what embellishments Egg had fed his sister. At the same time, the knot in his chest loosened a little. If the boy would tell such tales, it wasn't likely that he'd want to leave Dunk and return to his princely life, after all.

"No but you're dangerous," Daeron said – an uncanny echo of Dunk's own thoughts. "Now, if you behave, I might think of having both of them here to break their fast with us."

She nodded, pleased. The smile lit her entire face, showing a tooth that had recently fallen. For some reason, that made Dunk sad, his eyes going to the strip of silk with the terrifying staining.

"I suppose Egg will have to do," she said with a generous air. Her brother made a face but didn't object.

She turned round and headed back for their corner.

Daeron's hand shot out and caught his grandson's shoulder despite the pain the movement clearly exacted. "Don't go too near," he said in a low voice. "And don't drink from her cup."

The boy nodded, his frightened eyes going to the red stains, and Daeron released him, closing his eyes for a moment.

"He's very healthy," Dunk heard himself say, awkwardly. It felt weird to try and soothe a king's anguish. "And very perky," he added, to his horror.

Daeron opened his eyes and smiled faintly. "I have noticed that about him," he agreed. "He's his mother's son. And his grandmother's grandson," he added.

_Well, he should be._ Egg was nothing like his father, occasional haughtiness notwithstanding. And he didn't seem to resemble his royal grandfather either. He had to take after _someone_.

"Who are you?" Daeron asked abruptly.

Dunk scratched his head and replied with equal frankness, "I don't know, my lord. I am no one. And yet I am the man Prince Maekar entrusted his son to. A hedge knight. Not very good with sword," he admitted.

"You seem to be good enough in many enough things to attract Aegon's loyalty like this!" Daeron paused. "Are you sure you don't want to accept my son's offer? Life doesn't seem to be kind to you right now."

Dunk did not hesitate. "I am sure, Your Grace."

A small smile crossed Daeron's lips. "Good. Have some more wine. And tell me more about your future plans."

Dunk started talking, haltingly at first and then with more confidence. From time to time, he paused to help himself to the pork and the soft bread that the King ordered to be brought over for his young visitors kept talking with his mouth half full. Nothing could stop him, now that someone showed interest. Someone who wasn't a boy of eight anyway. With the corner of his eye, he could see Egg doing the same. To his relief, he wasn't sitting too close to his sister.

"Where is my father, Grandfather?" the boy asked, using a pause as Dunk was busy chewing. "Why isn't he here?"

Daeron frowned. "You know, Aegon, that's a good question." He looked at Dunk. "Would you summon someone from the antechamber?"

Dunk did, albeit reluctantly. He wouldn't regret it if Maekar Targaryen failed to make appearance at all but as bizarre as it was to him, Egg simply loved his father, as hard as Maekar was.

"And then, we might go to Oldtown," he went on once a servant was dispatched to bring Maekar. "Egg says that we might visit his brother while there."

Daeron smiled again, with the same fondness that had lit his face while first looking at Egg. "Aemon will be delighted," he said. "And Daella will be very envious of Rhae that she managed to meet you while Daella couldn't. We left her at King's Landing. Both girls are quite fascinated with you."

That didn't ring true. "But they don't even know me!"

"True. But Daeron and their father told them enough. They both like you."

That was the last surprise in the long list of such shocks for the evening. He had been under the impression that Prince Maekar disliked him just as much as he disliked the Prince. At the same time, he was surprised that the King was so well acquainted with Maekar's thoughts. One would have thought that the blaming about Baelor's death that was already spreading through the kingdoms would start in the Red Keep. Or would it? Daeron didn't seem to blame Dunk, so perhaps he would blame Maekar even less.

"But first, Dorne, right?" the King asked and smiled at some thought of his. "I'd recommend keeping Aegon away from Starfall, though! They don't nurse any particular liking of Targaryen princes going there under an alias there."

The eyes resting on his grandchildren were full or mirth and a little sadness. The contrast between the two children was striking – the richly clad dark-haired Princess and the bald boy who might have come straight from cleaning the stables. What use there was of Rhae's charm if it was to be given to the Yellow Handmaiden to lay at the Stranger's feet?

Maekar entered the chamber on soundless feet. Looking at him, Dunk had the distinct impression that he had hoped the King would have – what? Retired? Gone to sleep? But as it was, he merely bowed before giving Dunk a brief nod of recognition and going straight to his children. Dunk didn't have the time to decide whether he should bow or not.

"No," Daeron said, noticing his confusion. "Not while the King is present. Inclining your head will suffice. You do the same when he leaves – if he does before I do. If not, then a bow it is."

"I'll remember, Your Grace," Dunk said, although he couldn't see the need. It wasn't as if he'd spend his life around kings and princes and… why was Daeron smiling like this?

"Where have you been?" Daeron asked, his voice harsh, when Maekar finally came to them.

The Prince shrugged. "I was busy," he said and immediately turned to Dunk. "Aegon is very pleased with you. I hope you're half as pleased with him. It looks like I might find myself owning you a greater debt than I previously thought."

The last remnants of fear melted away. No, the boy had no intention of deserting him. He smiled and did a little congratulatory post in his head to himself. "I am," he replied most sincerely.

Maekar nodded curtly. "It's good to know this. As you would have noticed, he's far more resilient than he looks like. Have no fear to be demanding."

And do my best not to let him turn out like Daeron and Aerion, Dunk wondered but before he had the time to assure the Prince that he would be fearsomely exacting, Maekar had already shifted his focus on the King. "I hoped you would have retired," he said. "It was a long journey."

"And you seem to have undertaken even more of my duties than we intended," Daeron replied. "What's going on? Has there been a missive from King's Landing?"

"Yes," Maekar said bleakly. "And it spells trouble."

He didn't look keen on specifying what the trouble was but it seemed that had more to do with his concern over the King's poorly state than any reluctance to discuss it in the presence of a hedge knight. _What a change a few months and a kinslaying can bring forward_ , Dunk thought, quite uncharitably.

The King looked suddenly smaller and even wearier if such a thing was possible. He waited for his son to explain and Maekar seemed reluctant to, looking at the children, at Dunk, everywhere but the King.

Suddenly, his gaze became sharp. He reached over for the strip of silk and Daeron's hand shot forward to stop him. The fight lasted no more than a few seconds – the sick old man was no match for Maekar in sheer strength. The Prince opened the small piece of cloth and his face lost colour, his eyes immediately moving to his daughter. Dunk realized that while Daeron and Maekar must have been fearing the disease well before, that was probably the first time the girl had actually coughed blood. That explained why she hadn't looked at the silk to check for red splashes – most likely she didn't know she might have produced them. Perhaps she hadn't been even told about their apprehensions.

"It's time for her to rest," Maekar spoke. He had regained his self-possession and his voice sounded even.

"No," his father said. "She's clearly happy. Let her be. But I want her to have a cup of warm milk with honey, to sleep better. I think that's enough for now. Don't scare her."

Maekar considered this. "Fine," he said. "At least it's warm here."

Daeron nodded. "Good," he said. "Now tell me about that trouble. Is it Grandison writing?"

"No," Maekar replied. "As far as I can say, he's trying to get things properly under control and thinks that even if you return, you won't be able to do much. I agree. But I also happen to agree with Brynden Rivers that we should know."

"Know what?" For the first time, Daeron's voice rose.

"A plague," Maekar replied. "Something that wipes people in King's Landing faster than they can be buried. Here. Read."

Daeron started reading the parchment his son handed him, aging further right before Dunk. His lips started moving silently along with the eyes. He looked stricken.

"Your Grace?" Dunk murmured, turning to Maekar.

"Yes?"

"Which quarters are most affected?" It was strange to think of Flea Bottom as his home. He had never had a home there. His memories were not happy ones. He was surprised to find out how much he cared.

Maekar smiled grimly. "All of them. Flea Bottom. The Street of Silk. Aegon's Hill…"

Dunk blinked, shocked. "All of them? But I thought…" By the well-known laws of nature, such diseases struck the slums first.

"I also thought so," the Prince agreed. "But it looks like no one is safe there. It's only been five days, and the victims are numerous, from all circles. There have been a few cases even in the Red Keep itself." He looked away.

Dunk understood. "His Grace told me that Princess Daella was still at King's Landing," he said.

Maekar nodded. "She is. They're taking all precautions in the castle but despite that, my daughter could be infected. If that happens, she'll probably die. None of the known cures seem to work."

 


	4. Black Like Dread

In the silence that followed, the King read the letter to the end. His eyes remained fixed where they had moved to the last line and for a moment, Dunk got scared that Daeron might be going through a new down in health brought by the shock of the news. Now he realized why Prince Maekar had delayed his coming. Actually, he wished he had brought Egg over to his father wherever Maekar had been! It was terrible watching a man unravel before his eyes.

The stillness brought the children over, too. Egg demanded to know what was going on with that persistence that sometimes drove Dunk insane and Rhae circled over the table and leaned against her grandfather's chair. "Grandfather?" she asked and then, remembering that she was not supposed to breathe over other people, turned her head aside. "Are you in pain?"

Daeron startled and tried to smile, stroking her cheek. "No, my dear. I'm fine."

He made a terrible liar and the girl must have realized it. Her face scrunched in concern. "I think you're ill," she insisted. "Should I summon a maester?"

"Go to your bed," Maekar said sharply. "It's late. You have just a little more time to talk to Aegon but then I want you to rest."

She clearly disliked it but when she looked at her grandfather hoping that he'd countermand the order, Daeron nodded tersely and then his lips tightened with the pain of motion. Silently, Egg and Rhae withdrew back but did not resume their conversation. Instead, they were very obviously trying to eavesdrop on their father and grandfather and the two men were so wrapped in this new and unexpected trouble that they didn't even notice. They had forgotten about Dunk already and he wondered whether he should simply leave without drawing attention to himself. But that would mean leaving Egg here and for some reason, he disliked the idea. Or it would mean taking him away from Rhae too soon and after seeing the blood she had coughed, somehow it didn't seem right. And finally, he couldn't really leave unnoticed. Not with those huge feet of his – and he didn't trust the floor one bit. It was too well polished, more than any floor should be. Since now the Prince had taken his chair, he took another one, simpler, but thankfully, a little away from the table.

The flames in the fireplace burned lower. Their crackling intensified and for a moment, Dunk imagined that it was the King's bones that he was hearing. Daeron really looked like his skin would burst in splinters any moment now, right before he died.

The minutes dragged on. The King was saying something and Maekar was shaking his head in angry disagreement. Briefly, Dunk wondered who would win this clash of wills before occupying himself with lighting some new candles before the ones they spluttered and became extinct. The new ones weren't as good. They were tallow and more shapeless, only crudely resembling candles at all but Dunk liked them better. Bee wax was too scented for his taste. It looks like the lord he was serving was less wealthy than he wanted to look. Dunk wondered how many months the hedge knights and servants would pay for the expenses of this royal visit by living on porridge.

The words _scare_ , _riots_ , and _unburied_ started inhabiting the conversation all too frequently. The children edged closer without anyone paying them any mind.

"In two days, you must accompany Rhae to Summerhall," Maekar stated. " I insist." His speech had suddenly become slower and softer but it was clearly not because he had composed himself. Absently, Dunk wondered about the late Queen. The Prince had so obviously not taken after his father. Perhaps Daeron had taken the easy way out with his lady wife because Dunk could not imagine living daily with someone having a temper like this and not giving up under their forceful personality.

To his surprise, the king sat up straight and glared at his son with anger that equaled Maekar's. "I already told you that the only place I am going to is King's Landing," he snapped. "Why are we even still discussing it?"

"Because it's dangerous, that's why! You aren't this healthy anymore and I will not have you take further risks. Bloodraven agrees with me," Maekar added, as if that settled the matter. "Or maybe it's I who agree with him," he added honestly. "The capitol is the worst place for you to be right now."

To Dunk's surprise, Daeron laughed, albeit harshly and briefly. "You don't say so! I've always thought that in a true, great crisis the two of you can actually find yourselves in agreement. You proved it years ago. But I didn't envision it would take quite such a disaster for it to repeat." And then, the moment of levity was gone as fast as it had appeared. "When I decide to take your advice – or Brynden's, for that matter! – you will know it before everyone else. This time, I am not taking it. I am not running away in the hour of need just because the Stranger might decide that he needs an old man to add to his collection."

"But it isn't as if you can change something!" Maekar exploded. "It's careless. It's madness!"

"And still, it is the decision I've made and I stay behind it," the King said, once again calm and collected. "We're leaving at dawn."

That only seemed to disturb Maekar further. "We are?" he said. "Look at yourself! Look at Rhae! Neither of you is capable of going anywhere. You need rest. A few days would be best but a night and a day is a must."

"Rhae will stay here for a few days, of course," Daeron said, as if it was self-evident. "And then, she'll head for Summerhall. If there was a way to have you accompany her, I would have taken it but…"

"But if the situation is half as bad as Bloodraven says, every man who knows what he's doing will be needed," Maekar finished.

Daeron nodded, reconciled with it. "I wish it wasn't so," he said. "But the Seven know that Aerys and Rhaegel cannot be counted on, although they are both in the Red Keep."

Maekar didn't seem to mind. "I still think that between the three of us, Grandison, Bloodraven, and I could deal with the situation," he said. "There's no need for you to take the risk. It's bad enough that Valarr and Matarys are there."

"And…" Daeron looked at him and didn't quite finish.

Maekar nodded.

"So, we're leaving at dawn," the King said again.

"You're in no state to travel!"

"I'm fine. I'm rising." Daeron actually did so and Dunk saw the beads of sweat pain brought on his forehead and temple. "It doesn't matter. If the people of King's Landing decide that I have abandoned them… I have to go back as soon as possible. They must have some fresh horses here. We'll buy them if we have to. But we're leaving first thing tomorrow."

_Could one's very presence make such a difference_ , Dunk wondered. Why not? Baelor Breakspear's presence certainly would have. And he was quickly coming to realize that while having nothing of his son's charisma and vitality, Daeron resembled Baelor in one, very important aspect. He'd do what was right despite the risk to his own life.

"Sit down," Maekar sighed, helping him to do so. "Stay here," he added, looking at Dunk. "I still haven't seen the two of you properly. "

He bowed to the King and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Daeron asked, anger coming back.

Maekar looked over his shoulder. "To give orders , of course! We're leaving tomorrow morning, right?"

A moment later, Dunk startled. He had never heard a door being slammed with such fury.

"So," Daeron said, motioning at Dunk so easily that it became clear. He had never doubted that he would win this exchange with Maekar, no matter how forceful his son's personality was. Dunk's respect grew. "I suggest that you speed up your plans."

"Speed up?" Dunk asked. The events were unfolding too fast. He truly couldn't catch up. What plans should he speed up? Why?"

"You told me that you and Aegon were going to Dorne," the King said impatiently. "Despite my men's best efforts, the sickness had already escaped King's Landing. It'll probably affect other areas of Westeros… well, of course I hope they won't be large… But you cannot stay here. It's a smooth terrain. Traveling is too easy and if the plague reaches here – gods forbid – it'll carry very, very easily. I want the two of you to leave with my granddaughter's entourage. Accompany her to Summerhall. Then, you can stay or you can go, as you please. Dorne is known for closing its borders very effectively when she needs to. And it's almost impossible to break through them unnoticed." He smiled a little. "There, you'll be as safe as possible, I believe. But you cannot stay here."

_And if I refuse,_ Dunk wondered. Yes, Daeron was a king, after all. Arranging other people's lives for them, not thinking for a moment that they might not be pleased. _If I refuse, he'll send Egg to Summerhall without me._

"We'll join the Princess' retinue, Your Grace."

Daeron nodded and made another attempt of smiling but it didn't quite work out. His regard moved to the children and Dunk could almost smell his fear for them. At this moment, no one else mattered to the King.

Early in the next morning the sleep of the castle was disturbed by the sounds of leaving. From his place close to the party, Dunk saw that both the King and Maekar were now eager to take to the road as soon as possible. Rhae had come out to see them off and although neither of them wanted to part ways with her by scolding her for going out into the cold morning mist, they clearly wanted to have her back inside. When they took their leave from their host, she rose on tiptoes, breaching the etiquette, and clung to her father first and then her grandfather. Her fear was evident. She _had_ heard the conversation last night, as had Egg. _Is she going to see them again_ , Dunk wondered.

"Look," Egg said when his grandfather entered the litter and the group started pouring out.

Dunk did. The tone of the boy's voice told him that whatever he'd see, it wouldn't be good and indeed, the green ivy climbing up the wall behind their backs was now dried-up, cracked, and black like dread.

 


End file.
